Right now it smells like umbrella drinks and sunshine, with sea breezes carrying whiffs of suntan lotion. I'm not on a beach — I'm at my desk at home, typing away, a Coconut Bay tumbler burning nearby. An observant visitor will notice a few things about my home: I'm a bit lax on the cat hair, and I have a thing for Yankee Candles.
I grew up in Connecticut, about 45 minutes south of Yankee Candle's Deerfield, MA flagship. The first time I visited as a kid, my nose went into overdrive. It was like those rad scented markers times a million. I was fascinated that Christmas Cookie smelled exactly like holiday baking and Macintosh was the perfect juicy apple. I was hooked.
A few years ago, I lived with a friend, and he shared my Yankee Candle passion. We'd stock up at the BOGO sales and our apartment always smelled like fresh-cut roses or mango salsa, even if we hadden't stopped at the florist or weren't cooking. He lives in San Francisco now, so I light a Meyer Lemon and think of my bestie and California citrus.
I'll smell candles wherever I go, and sometimes I indulge in a pretty tin or an interesting scent, but Yankee Candles are still my favorite. They're my escape from the everyday.
(Image: flickr user sun dazed, licensed for use by Creative Commons)